


1935

by BucksomeBarnes (Freckled_Halos)



Series: The Before [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, ALL THE CRYING, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Crying, First Time, First time saying 'I love you', Fist Fights, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Break Up, Sibling Bonding, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckled_Halos/pseuds/BucksomeBarnes
Summary: Steve gets saved from a fight and doesn't know how to handle it.Bucky spends his birthday without Steve and realizes some important things. They finally have a much needed talk.It's Steve's 17th birthday and he and Bucky decide to finally take things a step further between them.





	1. January

JANUARY 1935

                       

Steve’s eyes blinked open, bright rays of early morning sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. His eyes were puffy and raw. They always seemed to be puffy and raw lately.

It had been three weeks since the awful dinner at the Barnes’ and they had been the worst three weeks of Steve’s life. He and Bucky had stopped meeting up at the street corner before school, didn’t get sodas on Fridays, and hadn’t spent any time together outside of class. Steve had taken to eating lunch with some of his old middle school friends, while Bucky slipped right back into his nasty senior friend group.

Whether it was passing in the halls, at the train station, or around their usual hangouts, Steve and Bucky would often catch each other staring. Inevitably, if one of them looked at the other, he was looking back. It broke both of their hearts, but neither of them dared say anything.

In the past three weeks, Steve had gotten into seven fist fights. Some were at school, but most were in the alleyways around his apartment building. He’d shuffle back home with fresh cuts and bruises spreading over old ones, assuring his mother that everything was fine. Nothing was fine. Steve was furious. He was angry and miserable without Bucky and it was all so terribly unfair.

Steve was sick of being so upset. The endless nights of pining and dreaming and crying quickly wore on him and his immediate response was to go out and antagonize people much bigger and much stronger than him. It was reckless and stupid, but Steve needed to stop thinking. Stop thinking about Bucky and how sad he was and how much he missed him. And in a good old fashioned back alley brawl, _thinking_ was the last thing Steve had to worry about.  

On one particularly icy day, Steve was backed into a corner a block from home, looking up at four high school seniors. He was already sore, knuckles scraped, and nose bleeding. Picking this fight may have been a bit extra reckless and Steve had the sinking feeling that he might get really hurt this time.

He kept his fists up, trying his best to dodge what swings he could, but there were too many arms flying at him at once. Steve let out a low “oof” and doubled over as he took a punch in the gut, closing his eyes. Suddenly, the hits stopped coming and he heard yells and scuffles in front of him. There were a few hits thrown before Steve heard the four teenagers retreat from the alley.

Wincing his eyes open, Steve stood up, clutching a hand to his side. Bucky was standing in front of him, hair slightly mussed up and arms crossed.

The feeling that pulsed through Steve’s veins was indescribable. Part of his heart absolutely soared, remembering the day they first met, Bucky fighting off the bullies cornering Steve then too. The other part burned with rage. Not for Bucky, but for being so forcibly reminded of what he wanted with all his heart, but could never have. The rage was easier to deal with.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve spat out, trying to focus on being angry instead of heartbroken.

“Savin’ your ass from getting beat to a pulp, clearly,” Bucky shot back.

Steve stepped forward, pushing Bucky hard on the chest. “I don’t need you to come save me all the time. I’m not a goddamn child.”  

Bucky was staying infuriatingly calm, expressionless, as he said, “no offence, but you looked pretty outnumbered there, pal.”

“I had ‘em on the ropes,” Steve shouted, pushing Bucky again. “I had ‘em.”

“Steve, look at you,” Bucky scoffed painfully, gesturing to his black eye, bloody nose, and bruised ribs.

“ _Stop._ ” Steve started to feel his chest tighten, so he shoved into Bucky’s chest a third time with balled fists. “Just leave me alone!”

Bucky looked down at him with a broken expression. “Steve—”

“I don’t need you, Bucky, alright?” He kept pounding on Bucky’s chest and Steve realized he was crying. “I don’t need you! I don’t—”

Steve folded over, falling into Bucky’s arms as he trembled with sobs. Bucky held him tight, silent, pressing his mouth against Steve’s messy hair. Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky tried his hardest to maintain his composure, but both hearing Steve fall apart and having him in his arms again was almost too much to handle.

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispered. “I got you. I have you, Steve. It’s okay.”

Balling his hands up in Bucky’s coat, Steve took one more shuddering breath and lifted his head to look Bucky in the eye.

“I can’t,” Steve croaked out. “Buck, I can’t, I just—”

And then their lips were suddenly pressed together. Neither of them knew who initiated it, but they both melted into it, frantically and passionately licking at each other’s mouths, nipping lips and sucking tongues.

Bucky wrapped his hands tightly around Steve’s upper arms, massaging them at first before pushing him away, breaking their embrace. They stared at each other, eyes roaming, a million thoughts flying around both of their heads, but none were vocalized.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, quickly backing away.

“Wait, Buck—”

But Bucky didn’t stop. He choked out an “I’m sorry, Steve” before turning on his heel and bounding away, down and around the alley, and out of Steve’s sight.

 


	2. March 10th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood. There's a brief paragraph at the beginning about Bucky having a gruesome nightmare

MARCH 10, 1935

 

Bucky awoke with a start, feeling not rested at all. For the past few weeks, Bucky had dreamt about Steve almost every night and every morning he woke up sad and lonely.

But this morning was the worst.

Bucky was lying in bed, shirtless, the sheets crumpled up around his waist, and the window above him letting in dreary Sunday morning light. He sighed, resting a hand on his forehead as he remembered flashes of the dream he just woke up from.

He and Steve had been at the beach, no one else in sight. They were enjoying a nice day with each other in perfect weather, not too hot or too cool. Lying in the sand together, Bucky and Steve were kissing, sweet and slow until Bucky suddenly tasted blood. His eyes shot open and Steve was pressed under him, bleeding out of his nose and mouth, sputtering incoherently and looking at Bucky with panicked eyes. Bucky tried to help, but the more he wiped at Steve’s face, the more his hands were covered with red. Looking at his shaky palms, all of a sudden Bucky was falling, sounds of screaming echoing around him before he jerked awake, breathless.

Bucky pressed his fingers to damp eyelids. What a way to start your eighteenth birthday.

It took all the energy Bucky had to push himself out of bed and get dressed, pulling on trousers, a checkered button up and navy sweater vest. He went into the bathroom to run fingers through his hair, not bothering to slick it down. He looked awful. He looked sad and grey and _tired_. A deep part of Bucky was mad at himself for letting someone else affect his mood so much. Had he really lost so much of himself that being without Steve for a couple months had practically debilitated him?

 _Steve_.

Just thinking his name sent a pang through Bucky’s heart. A few weeks prior, when Bucky had heard Steve getting the snot beat out of him a couple blocks between their homes, he almost couldn’t bring himself to intervene. Not because he didn’t want to—not at all—he just didn’t know if he would be able to _walk away_ afterwards. But the more he heard Steve trying (and losing) he knew he’d never be able to forgive himself for not helping. So he walked up, swung a few punches and kicks fueled by pure emotion and braced himself for the part that would hurt.

He didn’t expect Steve’s reaction and he certainly didn’t expect the kiss. Not only did seeing Steve, beat up and bruising, suck all the air out of him, but Steve’s response absolutely killed him. It made walking away even harder, but Bucky needed to find a safe place to fall apart alone. The last thing either of them needed was Bucky losing it right there too.

Now, he cupped his hands under the faucet, pressing cool water on his face and back of his neck before clomping down the stairs. His parents and sister were already at the table, eating breakfast.

“Good morning, birthday boy!” Mrs. Barnes smiled, giving Bucky a warm hug. She reached up, placing a gentle hand on the side of his face. Looking at his gloomy expression, she asked, “You alright, sweetheart?”

Bucky nodded. “Jus’ tired.”

After breakfast, he tried to avoid his family as much as possible, retreating to an armchair in the bay window of the living room. Bucky sat there and attempted to read to distract himself, but it wasn’t working very well. He was relieved when his mother walked up, placing a hand on his shoulder, and suggesting they go to the cinema.

The four Barnes’ left the house in the late afternoon, taking the train into the city. One of the films that had just come out that past Friday involved pirates and secret identities, which was enough to convince Bucky to agree to see it.

It turned out to be a terrible decision.

The entire second part of the film was about two people (who were both pointedly against getting married) falling in love. When the male love interest started singing a song literally called “I’m Falling in Love with Someone,” Bucky whimpered to himself and tried not to let show how badly he did not want to be there. It felt like it went on for days. Bucky was infinitely relieved when the screen finally went black, but that only meant he was left with the lingering image of the love interests running away to be together. *

They had a late dinner in Little Italy and Bucky finally got out of his head for a little while, stuffing his face with bread and pasta. It was dark as they left the train station in Brooklyn, walking home together, Mrs. and Mr. Barnes trailing behind a sluggish Bucky and skipping Becca. His mother had baked a birthday cake for him and they sang and ate as the radio quietly played in the living room. Bucky opened his gift box, revealing a new brown suede jacket from his parents. Becca had bought him a new tie and tin of his favorite pomade. After giving his thanks and kissing his mother and sister on the cheeks, he said goodnight and retired to his bedroom. 

The day ended in a much better way than it began, at least. Bucky brushed his teeth, changed into pajamas, and nestled into bed. He rolled to his side, tucking his hands up to his chin. He objectively had a very nice birthday with family, good food, and entertainment, but Bucky still felt an emptiness inside. He was tired of being sad. It was exhausting and infectious, attracting even more negativity in a horrible cycle of numbness and pain.

Bucky should’ve been able to shake this. He should’ve been able to move on whether that meant spending quality time alone or meeting someone new. But Bucky didn’t like being alone and he didn’t want to meet someone new. He wanted Steve. He wanted Steve in every possible way and as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, it never stuck and Bucky found himself dreaming of him constantly, awake and asleep. He felt the threat of tears just thinking about it and practically growled at himself with irritation. Get over it, Barnes, come on. Just get over it.

There was a sudden quiet knocking at his door and Bucky quickly wiped his nose and cheeks before sitting up and saying, “Yeah?”

Becca opened the door slowly and peeked in. “Can I come in?” She asked.

“Sure,” Bucky answered, glad to not be alone with his thoughts.

Becca stepped quietly inside and shut the door behind her. She padded over barefoot in her nightgown and sat cross legged at the foot of his bed.

“Did you have a nice day?” She asked, smiling sadly.

Bucky tried to smile back. “Of course. It was swell.”

She looked at him with a sympathetic expression. “Bucky,” she started, “you’re a real awful liar, you know that?”

He couldn’t help but laugh lightly, before averting his gaze and saying, “Yeah, I guess I’ve had better birthdays.”

Becca sighed and wrung her hands in her lap. “I can’t exactly tell what’s goin’ on with you…I know you’ve been real worried about finishing school, but I think it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Bucky hesitated, letting out a long breath. “Sort of.”

“Bucky, what happened between you and Steve?”

“What?” He blustered much too quickly. “Nothing.”

She stared at him, smirking, “awful liar, remember?”

Bucky sighed heavily and looked around the room. He tried to look at anything but his little sister because he knew seeing the expression in her eyes would make him want to cry all over again.

“It’s complicated.”

Becca scooted closer, sitting on her knees and taking Bucky’s hands in hers. “I can tell you don’t wanna talk about it and that’s fine. But Buck,” she maneuvered her head to catch his gaze and he couldn’t help but meet her eyes. “You have t’ fix whatever went sideways between you two. You’re miserable.”

His first instinct was to lie again, but it was no use. Instead, he breathed out a self-deprecating laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, and I’m gettin’ real tired of dealing with it,” she teased, smiling warmly at him.

“Yeah, well. Me too.”

Smile fading, Becca squeezed Bucky’s hands. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure you can make it better, whatever it is. Buck, you need to. For your own sake. I’m sure your pride is makin’ you think that’s giving in somehow, but it’s not, Buck. It’s not. Life’s too short to not spend it with the people you love.”

Her dark eyes bore into Bucky’s and he suddenly felt very exposed. The expression in her face told him that she _knew_. She might not know the details or the extent of it, but she had figured at least part of it out and instead of feeling panicked and terrified, Bucky mostly just felt relieved.

“Besides,” Becca continued, letting go of Bucky’s hands. “I miss havin’ him around here too.”

Bucky ducked his head and smiled sadly, hiding his sniffling. “Since when did you get so wise, little sister?”

She laughed quietly before slipping off the bed. Without answering, she leaned in and kissed Bucky on the cheek. “Happy birthday, big brother.”

He gave her a half-hearted smile before she slipped out his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This movie is called Naughty Marietta, which I have never actually seen (or heard of). I looked up movies released on Friday, March 8th, 1935 and this happened to be one of them and it fit so perfectly! lol Poor Bucky. Here's the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zI_JT7k0cLo&t=283s


	3. March 11th

MARCH 11, 1935

 

Steve shut and locked his front door with a thud and a click before gathering up his schoolbooks and heading down the front walk, hopping along each metal step with tired legs. He hadn’t slept very well last night. All day yesterday, he was consumed with thoughts of Bucky. They should’ve been together. It was the first birthday in four years that they spent apart and Steve was torn up about it. Five different times yesterday, he thought about just going over to the Barnes,’ but he knew it would’ve been a terrible idea. And Steve didn’t think Bucky really wanted to see him anyway.

Letting out a sigh, Steve turned the corner and headed towards the train station. He wasn’t paying too much attention, looking at the ground a few feet in front of him and brushing bangs out of his eyes. When he rounded the corner, Steve started, seeing Bucky standing in front of him at their old meeting place, staring. Bucky’s hands wrung together nervously.

“Oh,” was all Steve managed to get out as his face went pink, embarrassingly remembering his total breakdown the last time they saw each other.

“Hey,” Bucky replied in a tone so gentle and familiar it made Steve’s knees weak.

They stared at each other for a few more moments, people swerving quickly around them.

“Happy late birthday,” Steve managed to get out.

Bucky gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Another long pause.

“Hey, so, I think…I think we should, um…” Bucky started, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Would you leave your window unlocked tonight?”

Steve gave Bucky an affronted face, readjusting the books in his arms. If Bucky thought he could sneak into Steve’s bedroom—after everything—just to mess around, he had another thing coming.

Seeing the look on Steve’s face, Bucky stuttered, “No, no, no, not like that, I didn’t mean…” He rubbed at his forehead before adding, “I just want to talk to you.”

Part of Steve felt like it was a horrible idea. Nothing good could possibly come from it. Bucky had made his thoughts and intentions very clear that night on his front stoop and the last thing Steve wanted was to rehash it. But the other part of him was painfully curious and even the tiniest bit hopeful.

“Alright,” he nodded.

Bucky smiled at him, flashing his white teeth and dimples and Steve had to tell himself not to get swept up in them.

They awkwardly walked to the station a few steps apart from each other before getting into separate cars and heading to school. Steve avoided Bucky as much as he could, not wanting to entertain any thoughts of what he possibly wanted to talk about. Luckily, Bucky was nowhere to be found when Steve took the train home and he walked back to his apartment, anxious.

The evening dragged on. His mother left for the hospital after they ate an early dinner and Steve settled into his room to study. After an hour, he decided to sketch instead, hoping to get out of his own head for a little while.

Before Steve knew it, the sun had fully set and he had two complete pages of his pad filled with drawings of fictional strangers. Fictional strangers who, lately, always seemed to resemble Bucky in some way. Steve sighed looking at them, letting his face fall into his hands.

Suddenly, there was a quiet tapping at the window. Steve’s head shot up immediately, watching as it slid open and Bucky slipped between the curtains, landing lightly on his hardwood floor. Bucky gently shut the window and closed the curtains again before pulling off his shoes. He set them on the ground next to his feet and sat down right there, against the wall under the windowsill, crossing his legs and looking openly at Steve.

Glancing nervously at his sketches, Steve subtly flipped the cover over and put it and his pencils on the nightstand.

After a long pause, Bucky sighed. “I don’t even know where to start,” he whispered, no lightness in his tone at all.

Steve shifted, scratching lightly at an ear.

“Steve…I’m sorry. And I know that doesn’t even begin to cover everything that I’ve put you through, but it’s real important to me that you know that I am so sorry. For all of it. For all the stupid dates and other girls and especially for the dinner with the Wilsons…” he winced at that and looked away, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“Last summer was practically the most perfect thing I could ever imagine…and then I ruined it. Right when we were at a good place, I just got so scared and confused about finishing school and it caught up with me all at once. And I know you tried to talk about us, you did. And I never wanted to, but Steve, I thought about it every goddamn day. And every goddamn day, I came to the same conclusion: we couldn’t keep goin’ together. I needed to fit myself to a certain shape. A shape that would go to college, grow up, get married, have some kids…but it never fit.

“There’s the person I know I _should_ be and the person I know I _am_ and the more I started to realize how different they were, the more I panicked. I don’t want to go to college and I don’t want to get married to some dame. I don’t want to pop out a few kids in the next couple-a years and move outta the city and get a job that I end up stuck in for my whole life. I don’t want that. But I’m supposed to want that. And the thing I _do_ want is the thing that everyone says I shouldn’t.” His voice cracked as he looked up at Steve with wet eyes, pleading for understanding.

Steve worked his jaw and tried not to let Bucky Barnes make him cry for the millionth time in the past three months.

“My feelings for you never changed. Since I was thirteen, god damn it, not once have I ever wanted anyone as bad as I want you. I’ve never felt anything like it. And it was my stupid ego that kept telling me to knock it off and get over it and to distract myself with all these girls who didn’t matter. And they didn’t. They really didn’t. They were all nice enough and never did me any wrong, I was just confused and selfish and tryin’ to fit in, probably stompin’ all over their feelings too. And I know that’s no excuse, there _is_ no excuse, but I hope you’ll at least understand where I’m coming from and forgive me for bein’ so stupid.”

Before Steve could say anything, Bucky continued. “And then spending my whole birthday without you…” He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “I finally realized that I don’t give a shit if I’m _supposed_ to get married or _supposed_ to have kids or _supposed_ to go to college if it means I don’t get to live the life that I really want. And I don’t care if I’m not _supposed_ to want to be with you…I do. So, so badly. I still don’t know where I’ll end up, but I do know that I want you there with me. All the time, every day, for the rest of my life.”

Steve closed his eyes and dropped his head, finally letting a few tears leak out.

Bucky sniffed, running a finger roughly under his nose. “And I honestly don’t expect you to feel the same. Not after everything I’ve done. But I’d kick myself ‘til the day I die if I never told you.”

Looking heartbreakingly down at Bucky, Steve clenched his fists. He wanted nothing more than to leap across his floor and just hold him, surround himself with Bucky’s familiar scent and warm arms again. But he didn’t. There were a few things Steve needed to say first.

“There were times you acted like a real jerk to me,” Steve started and Bucky grimaced, averting his eyes. “But I let you do it and I kept taking you back because I was willing to put up with anything just to get any bit of you I could. But Bucky, if we do this, there’s no more jerkin’ me around, okay? No more of this god damn back and forth. It’s me and no one else, or it’s not me at all.

“I know you never got any pleasure out of it, but I don’t deserve that and I don’t want it. I don’t know what the future holds for me either and I’m not gonna ask you to commit to forever with me right now, but I _am_ gonna ask you to commit to _just_ me for as long as we do this for.”

The look of pure relief that passed over Bucky’s face pierced Steve directly through the heart. “Yes. Of course. I—Steve, anything…anything I can do to make up for any of it, please—”

“Buck,” Steve looked at him sadly. “Stop. Let’s just…let’s just start over, okay? Clean slate.”

“No, Steve that’s not right—” Bucky started, shaking his head.

“Yes it is. We’ve both been stupid,” Steve snorted. “In different ways, but we’ve still been a couple-a knuckleheads. So let’s just forget about all that stuff.”

“No,” Bucky replied, more firm. “That’s not fair. I’ve been a real jerk, Steve, and I can’t just pretend like I didn’t hurt you.”

Steve sighed, knowing that Bucky wouldn’t let this go and as frustrating as that could be, Steve was already more hopeful about their future if Bucky was this torn up about making things right.

“Then be better,” Steve said simply.

Bucky nodded and dropped his head, running his hands viciously through his hair. It was like last Valentine’s Day all over again. Bucky knew he had hurt Steve and while it didn’t excuse his behavior, Steve knew Bucky was truly sick with guilt.  

“Listen.” Steve slipped off the bed to sit across from Bucky on the floor. He looked up, face damp with tears, as Steve sat down. “You’re not a bad guy, Buck. I know y’ aren’t. We’re just given the cards we’re dealt and if I had been in your position the whole time, I don’t know if I’d’ve done it any different either. I know your family and the pressure your father puts on you to do well and be what he wants you to be. I know you’re scared about graduation, I am too. But Bucky, please stop beating yourself up about it. You know what you’ve done that maybe didn’t work out so well between us before and I can tell you feel bad for it.” Steve paused, reaching forward to take Bucky’s hands in his. “Just use that to learn and be better next time.”

Bucky looked brokenly at him. “Why d’you keep givin’ me all these chances, Steve? Even after I mess up over and over?”

Steve smiled, squeezing Bucky’s hands. “Because when have I ever given up on anything I believe in?”

Bucky’s face absolutely melted as he looked into Steve’s eyes with pure admiration.

“I’m not gonna give up on you now just because we’ve had a few bumps in the road,” Steve replied. “That’s just how life is. There may’ve been a lotta lows, but there’s been a helluva lot more highs, don’t y’ think?”

“But I feel like all the lows have been because of me—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve shook his head. “And it’s not true, besides. Bucky, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. Know why?”

Bucky grinned despite himself, knowing exactly what Steve was going to say. “Why?”

“’Cause I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal.”

Dipping his head, Bucky kissed at Steve’s knuckles and pressed Steve’s hands against his face, quietly murmuring, “I’m sorry, doll. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Steve whispered back. “I know you are. It’s okay, Buck, really. It’ll be okay.”

Bucky let Steve’s hands go, looking at him with wide eyes. “You have no idea how miserable I’ve been.”

Steve snorted. “I think I do.”

They laughed at themselves, voices thick with emotion, as they each rubbed at their cheeks and noses.

“God…” Bucky sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved in my entire life. Steve, you’re…I…”

“I know,” Steve whispered, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I know.”

The kiss was more incredible than either of them could have imagined. It was slow and gentle, full of feeling, tasting like comfort and happiness. They sighed into each other’s mouths, as if they hadn’t truly exhaled since the last time they were together. It was the most wonderful thing either of them had ever heard.

Bucky pressed forward, easing Steve down to the floor as he hovered above. It was more sweet than sensual, Bucky feeling like he belonged there—situated around Steve like a protective shell. Steve was infinitely glad to be surrounded by Bucky again too, savoring the all-encompassing warmth and familiar scent of him.

Bucky pulled his jacket off and Steve rubbed his hands firmly along his back. He kissed along Steve’s white neck and down to the collar of his pajamas, sucking and nipping at the soft skin. Raking his fingers through Bucky’s hair, Steve sighed, bending his knees to press his legs up against Bucky’s sides.

He kissed up Steve’s throat again, pecking his jaw and chin before getting to his lips and pulling away.

Looking at Steve with big eyes, Bucky whispered, “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Steve pushed up to give him another quick peck before replying, “You’re worth it.”

Bucky wasn’t quite sure he believed that, but didn’t say anything. Not now. Instead, he searched into Steve’s bright blue eyes, trying to find the words to convey all the happiness he was feeling.

Seeing the look on his face, Steve laughed and put his hands on Bucky’s cheeks. Looking at him with an open and loving expression, he just said, “I know.”

 


	4. Summer

SUMMER 1935

 

By the time graduation had finally come, things were not nearly as tumultuous as Bucky had expected. The day of, Steve came over dressed in the only suit he had, looking dashing with his hair slicked back and face bright. He watched from Bucky’s bed, bittersweet, as Bucky pulled on his cap and gown. Steve stood, smoothing the fabric lying on Bucky’s shoulders and chest before looking at him with big eyes and giving him a quick kiss.

Steve joined the Barnes’ for a celebratory dinner out that night, keeping a hand on Bucky’s knee underneath the tablecloth the entire time. Bucky still didn’t know exactly what his future looked like long-term, but he did know that Steve would be with him no matter what. And that alone made everything else a lot less scary.

Becca had quickly noticed the change in Bucky after he and Steve made up and while they hadn’t really talked about what was going on between him and Steve, over the past few months, Bucky felt a lot closer to her. Maybe it was because of that or maybe it was both of them just getting older, but having her in his corner made Bucky feel that much more confident in himself and his decisions. Or, at least if he made stupid choices, he knew he’d have people he loved to fall back on.

After his birthday, Bucky had forced himself to tell his parents he wasn’t going to stay in school after this year and was going to get a job as soon as he could. A week after that, thanks in large part to his experience hunting with family and ability to work well with his hands, Bucky snagged himself an apprenticeship at the gunsmith downtown. Mrs. Barnes wasn’t especially overjoyed with the idea, but both his parents knew it was something stable Bucky could grow into and for now, that was enough.

Now that Bucky had a day job, Steve was disappointed that they couldn’t spend as much time together, but it was for a good reason and meant that the time they did get together was extra appreciated. Bucky had Sundays and Mondays off, which they often spent together at the beach or relaxing at home. They still met at the soda shop every Friday evening and on nights Sarah was at the hospital, Bucky would sneak over, work night or not.

Steve and Bucky settled into it much easier than they had settled into their mutual malaise last fall and it was much more enjoyable, besides. Steve loved being around Bucky, but he was happy alone too and it was nice to have some designated time by himself to read, draw, or wander around town when he pleased. And Bucky having a set schedule and plan for the foreseeable future took so much off his mind, he could almost feel it. It was comfortable. And sustainable, giving them both hope that at least for now, they could make anything work.

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky started one Monday afternoon, looking up from his book to Steve on the opposite side of the Rogers’ sofa. 

“Yes?” Steve answered, eyes still focused on his near full sketchpad.

“You wanna bump up our date on Friday? Meet for a milkshake on Thursday instead? I’ll even treat you to some candy if you play your cards right.”

“Now, why would you do that?” Steve asked with a smirk, glancing at Bucky from under his eyelashes.

“Oh, I dunno,” Bucky sighed, looking away to turn a page with feigned indifference. “I heard it was gonna be your birthday or somethin.’ Thought I should probably treat my best guy to a special afternoon.” 

“Is that so?” Steve replied, teasingly, pausing to rest his hand on his half-finished drawing of Bucky.

He shrugged in response, peeking out of the corners of his eyes towards Steve. “If you want.”

“Thursday sounds great,” Steve said, smiling and resuming his sketching.

“Is…” Bucky paused, chewing on his bottom lip. “Is your mom gonna be home that night?”

Steve flushed and purposefully didn’t look up, pretending he had no idea why Bucky would ever ask such a thing. “She offered to switch shifts with any of the nurses willing, to spend time with me, so she’ll be here all evening.”

“Oh,” Bucky replied, disappointed.

“Until about ten p.m.”

“Oh,” Bucky said again, pleasantly surprised.

Steve gave him a mischievous look and pursed his lips, trying not to smile.

“I’ve, uh…I’ve been thinkin’ about what you said. The other day?” Bucky started, awkward.

“What did I say?” Steve asked, distracted.

“About, um…takin’ things further…between us?”

Steve froze and blushed hotly. Right. That. He never wanted to hide anything from Bucky and still wanted to do it, it was just slightly more awkward talking about it openly, in the day, where they could clearly see each other’s faces instead of crumpled up in the sheets in the middle of the night, breathy and wanting. At the time, Bucky had been all for the idea, eager, but cautious. Now, after having a week or so to think about it, Steve wasn’t entirely sure what Bucky was about to say.

“And what’re you thinking about it?” Steve asked, forcing himself to look Bucky in the eyes.  

Bucky’s face and ears were pink, but he looked intently back at Steve, a slow smile spreading on his face. “I wanna do it. I _really_ want to do it, if you still want to.”

“I do,” Steve replied, too quickly, the pit of his stomach tingling just thinking about it.

“So…Thursday then?”

It felt a little silly, planning out sex like this, like they were a middle aged couple trying to keep the love alive, but better this than try to force a surprise in the moment.

“Thursday,” Steve grinned.

Bucky tried to suppress his smile, but gave up, letting himself beam excitedly at Steve. Steve flushed even darker and ducked his head, brushing the bangs out of his eyes.

\--

Steve woke up on Thursday with the sun shining brightly through his bedroom windows. He rolled over and smiled to himself. He had a wonderful feeling about the day and even though he was nervous about it, thinking about spending the night with Bucky woke him up immediately.

After getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and combing his hair, he walked lightly down the hallway and into the kitchen. Sarah was sitting at the table, drinking a mug of coffee and listening to the radio.

Seeing Steve in the doorway, she stood up and put her arms out, wrapping Steve in a tight hug and cheerfully saying, “Happy birthday, honey!”

“Thanks, Ma,” he smiled.

Sarah stood in front of him, resting a hand on his shoulder and smoothing down his bangs with the other. She looked sadly at him, forcing a smile. “Your father would be proud of you.”

Steve sighed, breaking eye contact.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah cleared her throat and let go of Steve, sitting back down. “There’s more coffee on the stove, dear.”

Nodding, Steve poured himself a mug and sat across from her, quietly. He squinted, looking out the sunny kitchen window over the sink, trying not to think about how his life would have been different had his father been alive for it. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to start the morning and he was grateful when his mother cleared her throat again.

“So, what do you want to do today, Steve? Stay in or go out?”

He took a moment to think. Anywhere fun like Coney Island was going to be packed for the 4th of July and Steve hated crowds.  

“Can we just stay in? I do want to listen to the Dodger games today, if that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay. It’s your day, honey.”

They spent the day comfortably together, listening to the radio and having quiet conversation. Steve read a little and drew a little, coming down to the last page of his sketchbook. He helped his mom clean up the apartment, despite her objections for him to just relax, and sang along under his breath to a few songs from the phonograph.

Come 4:30, Steve slipped on his shoes and gave his mother a “see you soon,” before heading out to meet Bucky at the soda fountain. The door jingled as he walked inside, stepping around groups of other teenagers. He sat at the counter and ordered a strawberry milkshake for himself and a chocolate one for Bucky as he waited eagerly.

A few minutes later, the bell rang again and Steve turned to see Bucky walking quickly towards him, a wide smile on his face. As he approached the counter, Bucky had to restrain himself from jumping on Steve right there to give him big, sloppy birthday kisses. Instead, Bucky took Steve’s hand in his, giving him a tight handshake, trying to convey any of those same desires and emotions in it.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky breathed, quiet. “Happy birthday.”

Steve blushed lightly and smiled as their hands separated. “Thanks, Buck. How was work?”

Bucky shrugged as he eased into a stool next to Steve. “Fine. Jus’ worked on some more repairs.”

Resting his elbow on the countertop and setting his head in his palm, Bucky gazed lovingly at Steve.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that and drink your shake,” Steve teased, hiding a smile.

Bucky gave him a toothy grin and slid the glass over, wrapping his lips dramatically around the straw while maintaining eye contact with Steve the entire time. Steve glanced quickly to Bucky’s mouth before he turned away, flushing darker.

Laughing openly, Bucky sat up straight and looked more seriously at Steve. “What’d you do today?”

“Not much. Just stayed at home with Mom, listened to the early Dodger’s game.”

Bucky made a face. “Real shame.”

“I know. Them losin’ isn’t a real great birthday present,” Steve replied.

“Yeah, well. I’m sure the night’ll get better for y’.” Bucky shot him another cheeky glance and Steve widened his eyes at him. “Sorry,” Bucky laughed. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“Impatient?” Steve offered, chuckling.

“Excited,” Bucky corrected with a smirk.

Smiling softly, Steve said, “Me too.”

They looked intently at each other for a few moments before Bucky cleared his throat and said, “Well, we can talk about all that later. For now, what d’you say we go get you some candy? Getcha all sugared up before dinner?”

Steve laughed. “Sounds like a swell idea.”

After finishing their milkshakes, Bucky batted Steve’s wallet away and left a bill on the counter before they weaved out of the shop and into the warm evening. They walked the four blocks to the candy store, Steve wanting nothing more than to just hold hands. He looked over at Bucky who was backlit by the low sun, shining between buildings on the other side of the street. It illuminated his silhouette beautifully; the thickness of his brow and smooth line of his nose. His rounded lips, strong chin and square jaw. Sometimes Steve didn’t know how he got so lucky, snagging an absolute dream like Bucky. Now that he was a little bit older, Steve didn’t care much about what anybody else thought of him. All the empty looks and lack of dance partners over the years used to upset him and he couldn’t help but internalize it and feel like something was inherently undesirable about him. But between growing up and Bucky’s words of endearment, Steve had grown to a point of almost being confident in himself physically. That said, Steve didn’t think he’d ever feel on the same level as Bucky.

He was stunning. Tall and broad with firm muscles and kind brown eyes. His face and body were peppered with freckles and thick, dark hair. Sometimes, it almost hurt Steve to look at him.

As they approached the candy shop, Bucky held the door open for Steve who slipped quietly inside.

“Whatever you want, Steve,” Bucky said, spreading his arms out. “It’s all my treat.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Steve replied, wandering down an aisle.

“I know,” Bucky shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “But I want to.”

Steve chose modestly, picking up only two Reese’s cups and a roll of Lifesavers. Bucky gave him a look, knowing full well that Steve would’ve gotten more if he was paying for it himself, so Steve blushed and picked up some Milk Duds, a Mounds bar and a few Mary Janes. Steve grabbed the paper bag of candies off the counter and Bucky handed over a few coins before the two of them left to go back to the Rogers.’

“What’s the plan for the night?” Bucky asked as he followed Steve up the apartment steps outside.

Steve took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “Mom’s making some fried potatoes and hot dogs for dinner. I know it’s not real flashy, but—”

“You love spuds and dogs,” Bucky finished, matter-of-factly.

Steve smiled to himself as Bucky walked inside behind him and shut the door. The smell of said potatoes and hot dogs sautéing with butter and onions wafted into the living room.

“I’m back, Ma,” Steve called, entering the kitchen and setting his bag of candy on the table.

Bucky kicked off his shoes and followed, settling down heavily into a chair with a cheerful, “good evening, Mrs. Rogers.”

The three of them ate dinner happily together, Sarah asking Bucky all kinds of interesting questions about his job and Steve absolutely beaming at Bucky animatedly answering all of them with a glint in his eye. While he was out, Sarah had made Steve a wacky cake dusted with powdered sugar and she pulled it out after Bucky had done the dinner dishes. They sang happy birthday and Steve ate a fourth of the entire cake, relishing in the feeling of being full of his favorite meal, listening to his favorite phonograph record, and accompanied by the two people who meant the most to him.

Sarah made Steve a mug of tea before leaving to get Steve’s gift from her bedroom. He ripped the newspaper wrapping off an old box and opened it, revealing a new set of wool gloves and socks Sarah had knitted him. He smiled wide and thanked her with a kiss on the cheek. They sat in the living room, listening to music, Sarah telling stories about some of Steve’s earliest birthdays, which made Bucky smile so much, Steve was too flattered to be embarrassed.

As it approached nine, Sarah had to get ready for work. Before leaving, she kissed Steve on the forehead, told him happy birthday again and apologized for not being able to spend the rest of the evening with him. Steve assured her it was okay, he had had a wonderful day with her, and sent her off with a tight hug.

Once she was out of the building and down the street, Steve and Bucky crept through Steve’s room and out his window, settling on the fire escape next to each other. From here, they had an okay view of the sky over the East River. As the fireworks started, Bucky slipped an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him close, resting his cheek against the top of Steve’s head. Steve closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the booming of the fireworks and the steady breaths coming from Bucky. It was one of those moments Steve tried to take a mental snapshot of.

When the firework show was over, they slipped back inside and Bucky hurriedly closed the window and curtains before turning on his heel and grabbing Steve by the waist.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he breathed, leaning towards Steve.

Steve smiled and placed his hands on either side of Bucky’s face. “Then what’re you waiting for, jerk?”

Bucky grinned back before closing the distance, pressing his lips tenderly against Steve’s. They kissed slowly for a few long moments, Steve reaching up to begin unbuttoning Bucky’s shirt.

“Wait,” Bucky pulled away quickly, letting go of Steve as he said, “I almost forgot!”

He jogged out of the bedroom, rustled around down the hallway, and walked back in, a wrapped box in his hand.

“What—where’d that come from?” Steve laughed.

“I hid it under your sofa last weekend,” Bucky replied cheerily. “Open it!” He thrust the box towards Steve with both hands, giving him an eager look.  

Steve took the box and sat on his bed. “I thought the candy was my gift,” Steve shot Bucky a wary look as he tore the paper off.

“Part of it.”

Steve removed the lid and looked into the box with surprise. Inside was an empty bound sketchbook and a set of shiny new pencils. Steve recognized the brands, but had never owned them before, he could never bring himself to spend the money. “Buck…”

“I knew you were ‘bout finished with the current one. And, Steve, those pencils you use are down to stubs, I don’t know how you even hold ‘em.”

“These are…”

“Are they okay?” Bucky asked, easing down on the opposite side of the bed. “The woman at the store said they were nice, but you know I don’t know the first thing ‘bout art.”

Steve let out a breath. “They’re real nice, Buck. Real nice. Thank you.”

They made eye contact and the look of pure adoration in Bucky’s eyes made Steve almost want to cry.

Carefully closing the box and placing it on his nightstand, Steve looked back at Bucky, his hair messy and shirt half-undone. Steve got to his knees and crawled towards Bucky, wrapping his arms around his neck and sitting back on heels.

“Thank you, Bucky. You’re sweet as sugar, you know that?”

“Nah,” Bucky waved his hand dismissively in the air. “Just got the best guy in the whole world, need to make sure he gets the best there is.”

Steve smiled, full of emotion, before diving in to kiss him again. Bucky’s hands slid up and down Steve’s back and pulled his shirt out from his waistband. He slipped warm, rough hands underneath and ran them along the soft skin of Steve’s back. Sighing into Bucky’s mouth, Steve continued removing Bucky’s shirt as he pawed at olive skin.

Bucky stood without breaking contact and crawled onto the bed, coaxing Steve onto his back. They licked and nipped at each other hotly, each fumbling to undo the other’s belt and pants. Once they were both stripped down to their boxers and socks, Bucky dropped his hips heavily against Steve’s, breaths hitching. Bucky kissed along Steve’s jaw, moving down his neck, working his teeth and lips along protruding collarbones. Steve wrung his hands up in Bucky’s thick hair, gripping and tugging until Bucky moaned.

Steve closed his eyes, running his fingers through Bucky’s brown waves and focused on the feeling of Bucky’s mouth on his chest. He let out a long sigh and mindlessly whispered, “I love you.”

Bucky stilled and Steve’s eyes shot open, his cheeks and ears flushing faster and deeper than ever. Bucky sat up quickly and Steve was terrified to look at him, feeling embarrassed tears beginning to well up in his eyes. He meant it, of course, but neither of them had ever said it aloud and while Steve mostly felt Bucky was of the same mind, he just wasn’t sure.  

Finally gathering the courage to glance down, Steve saw Bucky perched between his legs, hair sticking up in all directions, a huge smile on his face.

“You do?” Bucky breathed back, giving Steve a look that made him feel completely naked.

He just nodded.

Bucky bit his bottom lip and blushed, looking intently into Steve’s eyes as he said, “I love you too.”

Steve’s nose scrunched up and his hands flew up to cover his face. He felt the bed shift as Bucky snuck closer, pulling at Steve’s fingers.

“Hey,” Bucky laughed. “Hey, doll. Hey, I love you too. I love you.”

Letting Bucky pull his hands from his face, Steve didn’t even try to hide his toothy grin, amusedly repeating, “I love you, I love _you_ , I _love_ you.”

Steve slung his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulled him in, teeth clacking together as they tried to kiss through their smiles. Steve’s heart felt like it was growing bigger and bigger, pushing its way up his throat and out his mouth and thank goodness Bucky was there to catch it.

They wasted no time getting to it, working each other up as far as they could without finishing right then. Underwear was discarded and they slipped under Steve’s sheets as Bucky murmured something about if they had any petroleum jelly in the bathroom. Steve wasn’t sure, so the two of them waddled down the hall, bare naked, to look in the cabinet. There was a small tub and Bucky snatched it, leading Steve back to his bedroom. Looking between the tub and Bucky’s hardness, Steve felt the tiniest bit of doubt.

“And you know what you’re doin’?” Steve asked, lying down again.

Bucky was sat on his knees between Steve’s legs, dipping two fingers into the jelly, but froze at Steve’s hesitant tone.

“We aren’t going to do this if you don’t want to, Steve,” he said, serious and gentle.

“No, I do. I do, I just…” He swallowed hard before mumbling, “I’m afraid it’s gonna hurt.”

Bucky looked empathetically at him. “We’ll go real slow, okay? And if anything doesn’t feel right, you don’t hesitate to say somethin.’”

“Okay.”

“And I’ll tell you everything I’m gonna do before I do it.”

Steve shifted, trying to relax. “Um...are you gonna start with your fingers?” He asked, glancing at the tub of jelly in Bucky’s hand.

“Yeah. You have t’ work up to it.”

“You done this before?” Steve joked.

Bucky flushed unexpectedly as he answered, “I’ve been reading.”

“What? Dirty cartoons?”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and set the tub aside, looking Steve in the eye. “No. Well, yes, but also…y’know…books.”

“Books? About two guys havin’ sex?” Steve asked, amused.

“Sort of,” Bucky said, light-heartedly defensive. He looked down at his hands and murmured, “I wanted to make sure it was good for you.”

Steve was genuinely appreciative and felt bad for poking fun. He sat up to grab Bucky’s clean hand with his own. “That was a good idea. Thank you.”

That restored some of Bucky’s confidence and he gave Steve a quick kiss before gently pushing him down again.

“Okay. Again, you tell me if I do anythin’ you don’t like.”

“I will.”

It ended up happening fairly quick. After finally working Steve up to fit Bucky inside, it only took a few thrusts before Bucky had to pull out to finish on Steve’s stomach. It was brief, but Bucky had never felt anything like it. It wasn’t quite the same as the girls he’d been with, but not just because of the physical differences. Bucky had never felt so much emotion while having sex. Any time he and Steve fooled around, it made Bucky’s heart race in more ways than one, but none of those times could ever compare to this. It was almost intoxicating. Bucky wanted nothing more than to savor every second and make it last as long as possible, but at the same time, he couldn’t slow himself down. It felt too good and Steve was too warm and willing.

He felt bad for cumming so fast and devoted the rest of his energy to pleasuring Steve as much as he could without making him finish. It wasn’t until another hour passed that Steve finally begged Bucky to make him cum, which he did, happily, with both his mouth and hands.

Messy and breathless, they laid on their sides facing each other, slowly licking into each other’s mouths. Steve felt a bit raw and sore, but was almost bursting with happiness. After finally cleaning up a bit, they set Steve’s alarm clock early to make sure Bucky was out before Sarah got home. Exhausted, Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve who was nestled against his chest and kissed the top of his head.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Steve pulled a tired smile, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. “Thank you, Buck. I love you too.”

Steve was soon fast asleep and Bucky held him tight, feeling the same _oh no_ kind of panic he got the first time he had thought about Steve as more than a friend. It was less confusing this time, but even more intense and scary and Bucky found himself holding back tears. They were young. Life was complicated and they could never be truly together, but hell, did Bucky want it. Bucky wanted Steve for the rest of his life and it was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Steve. His Steve, his dollface. The love of his life.

Bucky nuzzled his face into his sweat-damp hair and took a deep breath in to steady himself, calmed by the familiar scent of Steve’s soap and skin. Eventually, Bucky’s eyes fell shut and he slipped into a deep sleep, dreaming through the early morning about his and Steve’s impossible future.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I know in my other series there's a whole conversation about Steve and Bucky never having "DTRed" and while they didn't talk about it for a very long time, the more I wrote, the more I realized that was unrealistic. So. Here they are. Sort of DTRing. And hey, they're both 100, maybe they forget some stuff sometimes ;)
> 
> Also, I don't know, guys. I was really looking forward to this one for their first time doing anything...penetrative, but I really didn't want to go too far into it. Especially considering Steve's just 17. I already feel sort of weird having written the blow/hand jobs with them being even younger, so. That's that. 
> 
> For whatever reason, it just wasn't flowing this time. I was on such a roll and had part of this one written before I even posted '34, but this one was a bit of a struggle to get through, which is why I decided to end it at the summer. There were already a few pages of story and I thought it'd be better to not force anything and just start fresh for '36. Which, friendly reminder, is the year Sarah dies, so that'll be fun. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks, as always, for reading, especially when I feel like this one's a bit of a stumble. I appreciate it more than you could ever know!


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